


T-Shirt

by 5oclocksomewhere



Series: T-shirt [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 23:45:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5oclocksomewhere/pseuds/5oclocksomewhere
Summary: "the way you wore my t-shirt"





	T-Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song T-shirt by Thomas Rhett...I dunno I had a margarita date with my roommate over Facetime and she was listening to country music (not my style at allllll) but I was kinda digging the vibes of this song (which she swears is not really country but whatevs). Got kinda tipsy and was inspired to write this little one shot. Didn't feel like editing so please ignore any mistakes lol

_Getting off work now. Meet at our spot in 20?_

Christen plops down into the metal patio chair, hot from the summer sun, and checks the time on her phone. She’s right on time, but Tobin is perpetually late and probably won’t be here for another ten minutes. She has a perfect view of the parking lot from her seat, so she takes off her blazer and leans back, fanning herself with the drink menu while waiting for a familiar beat up old pick up truck to pull into the lot.

 

The mid June heat and humidity is strong even at 7pm with the sun dipping below the horizon so Christen pulls her straightened hair back with a hair tie off her wrist. She skims a work email on her phone, knowing that she needs to get her reports finished up soon, having to take on extra workloads with her colleague out on maternity leave. She’s so engrossed in mapping out her work schedule for the following week that she doesn’t even hear the diesel engine roaring into the parking lot.

 

She finally looks up, wide eyed and surprised when her phone is plucked out of her hands. “Answering work emails while on a date is very rude Christen Press,” Tobin chides, flashing a white toothy grin at Christen before placing the phone screen down on the table.

 

Christen rolls her eyes, and grabs her phone, sliding it into the side pocket of her Louis Vuitton bag before looking at Tobin. “This isn’t a date Tobin,” she reminds her, raising her eyebrows.

 

Tobin runs a hand through her hair, which has somehow dried perfectly wavy from the saltwater and her tanned skin crinkles around her eyes as she smiles. “How was work?” she asks, ignoring Christen’s statement.

 

Christen adjusts her dress and crosses her legs before shaking her head. “Miserable,” she states flatly, looking up at the waiter who has walked over to take their order. “We’ll have two house margaritas please,” she smiles politely.

 

“Chips and salsa too,” Tobin speaks up as the waiter turns to walk away.

 

Tobin fills up on chips and salsa and listens patiently while Christen complains about her boss being on her ass about overdue reports. Christen finally starts to relax halfway through her first margarita. “Anyway, how was your day? Almost ready for your competition?”

 

Tobin nods, her mouthful of chips and she takes a big gulp of her margarita to wash them down. “Yeah, I think so. Waves were pretty good this morning so I got in some good sets. You gotta loosen up and come out with me some time,” she grins, waving the waiter over for another round of margaritas.

 

“How many times do I have to shoot you down before you take a hint?” Christen teases, shaking her head slightly.

 

Tobin’s eyes twinkle under the Christmas lights strung over the small patio. “This is what? The fourth Friday that I got you to agree to get drinks with me? It’s only a matter of time before you go out on a real date with me Christen Press.”

 

Christen shakes her head, sucking down the last of her first margarita. “I only agree because they have the best margaritas and I can’t take advantage of the two for one special by myself.”

 

The live music begins when their second margaritas arrive and their conversation dies as they sip their drinks and listen to the band. “Dance with me,” Tobin requests, not sounding like a question at all, a smile on her lips but her eyes serious.

 

Christen’s head is swimming, but still she shakes her head. “I don’t know how.”

 

Tobin stands and holds her hand out, not taking no for an answer. “I’ll teach you.”

 

Christen relents, putting her hand in Tobin’s and standing up. They’re both tipsy, bordering on drunk, and it’s hot, but Tobin attempts to teach her how to salsa dance nonetheless, taking frequent breaks to sip their cold drinks. As they make their way back out to the dance floor, the empty cups from their second margaritas abandoned on their table, Tobin squeezes Christen’s hand. “Hey…hey baby, do you wanna come over?” she asks, over the loud salsa music.

 

“No way,” Christen responds, stepping closer to Tobin and wrapping her arms around her neck to pull her in.

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Tobin is leading Christen along the sidewalk to her dingy apartment across the street from the bar. Tobin is trying to sing one of the songs they had danced to while Christen laughs at her terrible Spanish when one of the doors behind them opens. “Keep it down, will ya?” a gruff voice yells out, startling both of them. They both laugh breathlessly stopping on the sidewalk, still a few doors down from Tobin’s apartment. Christen looks over at Tobin, suddenly hot under her intense gaze and the next thing she knows their lips and tongues are fighting for dominance and Tobin is leading her by the hips to the door of her apartment.

 

“We need to stop doing this Tobin,” Christen breathes out as Tobin fumbles in her pocket for the keys. Tobin’s eyes flash over to Christen and despite her words she finds herself leaning in to kiss Tobin again. It takes Tobin four tries to unlock the door, not willing to stop making out to get it on the first time. Christen steps back into the tiny apartment, breathing in the scent of weed and the beach

She looks back on her way down the short hallway towards the bedroom, lit up blue from the TV that Tobin must have left on earlier in the day. “You coming or what?” she asks. Tobin snaps out of her daze and nods, taking the two steps to close the distance between them. Christen tosses her blazer and bag onto the chair just inside Tobin’s bedroom before spinning to give Tobin access to the back of her dress. Tobin tugs down the zipper, gulping as Christen steps out of her dress, revealing a matching lace panty set.

 

She spins around and smirks at Tobin in the doorway, taking the two steps back to Tobin’s messy and unmade full size bed. She reaches up and tugs the hair tie out of her hair, shaking it out and looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. Tobin rips her t shirt off, dropping it to the floor and striding towards Christen.

 

They keep ending up like this, tangled in Tobin’s sheets after four for two margaritas across the street. Christen knows it’s a bad idea but she needs to let off some steam with how stressful her job has been and Tobin is a perfect distraction. They’d never work in a real relationship, Christen thinks. She is dedicated to getting ahead in her office, already the youngest person in her position, while Tobin is a 24 year old with a college degree she’s never used. She has no job and few responsibilities, happy to spend her days on the beach getting high and catching waves with her friends, scraping by with money earned in surfing competitions. But Tobin is persistent and Christen is lonely and it doesn’t hurt that Tobin is ridiculously hot and impossibly good with her hands and mouth. And so, despite her better judgment, Christen winds up naked on her back in the older girl’s bed again.

 

 

Two hours later Christen can feel Tobin’s eyes on her as she slips on a t shirt from Tobin’s floor and pulls her phone out of her bag to order her Uber. “You look so dang hot in my T shirt,” Tobin calls out from where she’s still sprawled naked on her bed.

 

Christen gathers her bra and slides her panties on before answering. “My Uber will be here in 6 minutes. Can I borrow a pair of shorts?”

 

Tobin nods and wordlessly points at her dresser, her eyes still raking over Christen in the light from the TV that they’d never turned off. Christen digs through the disorganized mess of clothes in the first drawer she opens, finally pulling out a pair of shorts. She quickly tugs them on and grabs her dress off the floor, folding it and tucking it into her bag along with her bra and blazer. “This is the last time, okay?” she warns, pulling her bag up onto her shoulder and grabbing her heels off the floor. “I can’t keep doing this Tobin,” she says, her voice softer as she pauses in the doorway and turns to look at Tobin.

 

“Keep that shirt it looks good on you,” Tobin smirks confidently from her spot on the bed. “I’ll see ya next Friday at our spot Christen.”


End file.
